It ain't the plan
by Kali47
Summary: Mal and Jayne go down to a planet to look for a job. There must be something wrong with their karma, because out of the entire 'verse, Reavers decide to attack that very planet.


**IT AIN'T THE PLAN**

Chapters: oneshot  
Type: vignette  
Rating: PG  
Main characters: Malcolm Reynolds, Jayne Cobb  
Timeline: After the events of 'Ariel'_  
_Summary: Mal and Jayne go on a planet to look for a job. There must be something wrong with their karma, because out of the entire 'verse, Reavers decide to attack that very planet.  
Beta Reader: none  
Disclaimer: Don't own the show; don't own the characters (sadly).  
Written: May, 2005

* * *

"We'll never get out of here alive," Jayne said, almost matter-of-factly, as he tried to sit with his bleeding leg.

"We ain't gonna die in here," Mal answered, his voice trembling slightly. "If we stay quiet, they won't find us. We just have to wait for'em to goram leave".

He sat down next to the wounded man who was still holing his gun close to his chest.

"You're livin' in a dream, cap'n."

"We ain't gonna die here Jayne. Dong ma?" Mal interrupted, his voice somewhat stronger. "We ain't, 'cause that's not the plan."

"Your plans never go right."

"Yes they do." Mal replied. "Sometimes."

A heavy silence fell on them and Mal let out a long, shaky breath. A white puff of smoke escaped his lips.

"It's ruttin' cold in here," Jayne said, trying to still the tremors coursing through his limbs. He wasn't sure if it was because of the cold or the blood loss.

Mal nodded and started to look more closely at the dark place they were in. They were holed up in an old cave, below a decrepit, worn-out, farmer's house. The guy who lived here — a white-haired, thin man with a few missing tooth and named Bob —told them to hide down here, before he left the house. He went back outside to search for his daughter.

Mal had told him that it was madness to go back outside; that he'd better stay here. The man refused to listen and all but pushed the captain and the wounded man down the ladder. He then shut the hatch behind then and it was too late.

There was, in the left corner, a dark shape Mal hadn't noticed before. He got up and walked forward. With a hand, he lifted a heavy blanket and couldn't help but smile at what he found. There, pilled neatly, were a couple of protein bars and some bottles of what looked to be whiskey.

Mal let out a happy whistle pass his lips. He took the blanket, two bottles, and headed back to Jayne. The merc was trying to bandage his leg with some kind of cloth. Upon closer inspection, the captain noted this was a torn out part of Jayne's shirt.

"Look what I found," Mal said brightly, handing the wounded man the blanket and a bottle. "And there's a dozen more. But only one blanket."

"Guess we're lucky then, at least we'll die drunk." Jayne's tone was sarcastic and his grip around the bottle cap was unsteady.

"They won't find us," Mal replied, mentally adding '_if we're lucky'._

Then he remembered that he really had been lacking in the good luck department, those past couple of weeks. Hell, he'd been downright unlucky most of his life. Fear settled a little lower in his chest, churning parts of him uncomfortably. He swallowed hard.

He opened his own bottle and felt a little better as the clear liquid burnt through his throat. He sat against the wall and let go of an heavy sigh. _Goram'it!_ it was really cold and damp down here. He felt chills course through him, chilling him down to the bones. He tightened his brown coat a bit more, to no avail.

"If they come, I won't let them kill me." Jayne's voice was dead serious.

"Me neither." Mal answered in the same tone, before taking another sip.

"Mal?"

"Yeah."

"If this is going to be our last conversation, there's something I'd like to say." Jayne sounded unsure, as if he didn't know how to phrase his thoughts.

"Don't," Mal stopped him. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

Jayne sighed, nodded and, after a moment, said, "I'm sorry."

Mal turned over to look at him, but the other man kept his gaze firmly directed at the dusty wall facing him.

"I betrayed the doc and his sis' and… and I betrayed you," he mumbled, in a voice that was barely more than a murmur. "I'm sorry. I… I regret it."

"Would you do it again?"

"No."

"Then it's ok." Mal nodded to himself.

They drank in silence for a while. The captain was getting colder and he started shivering. At first the alcohol had warmed him enough. but it now felt as if the air was physically biting him. He tried to tightened his coat closer.

"You sure there ain't no other blanket?" Jayne asked

"No, there ain't. But I'm fine." Mal lied.

"Take this one then." Jayne lifted an arm, a corner of the rough blanket held firmly between his fingers.

"No." Mal stopped him with a raised palm. "You're hurt; you need it more."

"Nah." Jayne shook his head. With the alcohol he'd gotten down, he wasn't really feeling the large cut in his right leg anymore. The makeshift bandage would hold fine for a few more hours, then a few stitches would do.

"Fine!" Jayne muttered eventually. "We share."

"What?" Mal's head turned to him sharply.

"We share," he repeated, trying for an indifferent, nonchalant tone. "You come closer and you'll have a bit of the blanket too.

"And take an other bottle when you come; mine's empty," he added, decidedly sounding gruff, for good measure.

Mal wasn't really sure this was a good idea, but the biting cold forced his common sense to hide far away in the back of his mind.

He got up, ambled forward and took two bottles, before making his way to Jayne. He sat down, next to him, and the merc lifted a corner of the blanket.

They were uncomfortable at first, but with a few more swallow they got used to the situation. And time passed by.

The cave was dark and silent, but they knew outside it was different entirely. It was late-afternoon and some people were still outside. They were in a small farmer's town and it was harvest time. The Reavers had descended on the locals with all the cold, cruel, disorganised violence they were capable of. People had scattered to the wind quickly; Mal and Jayne had done the same. The younger man had been hit by a flying knife as they tried running to the nearby woods.

Sometimes the shrill of a cry broke the heavy silence. It came from outside; a terrible reminder of what was going on in the small town.

o0o

A few hours later, the house's entrance door loudly banged opened. It was shortly followed by the sound of footsteps, making the wooden floor creak above their heads. Mal counted at least two pairs of feet.

The two thieves tensed in the darkness, their hands flew to their guns, ready. A few minutes passed, before someone else came in the house. The steps were accompanied by a softer whooshing sound. Mal thought it reminded him of a bag being dragged on the floor.

A terrible cynical laughter invaded the house and it was closely followed by a girl's scream. Not a bag then, Mal realised, his insides growing cold. It was more likely that a Reaver had come in with a girl and he was now _sharing_ her with his friends.

Mal felt Jayne move beside him. He turned towards him and levelled him with a dark glare. It was a look that clearly said 'Don't do anything!'

They would be lucky enough to get through this alive. There was no need to increase the risks by playing hero. The girl had already stopped screaming anyway; she was probably dead already.

Jayne nodded and lowered his gun until it rested on his lap. Their eyes briefly met again. What Mal read in the blue pupils was something he'd never seen before; a combination of despair and fear.

He placed a heavy hand on Jayne's shoulder, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He felt Jayne lean closer against him and he let him. It was somehow reassuring to have him close. He placed his arm around Jayne's shoulders and pulled him closer.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours; the longest hours of their lives. They waited in the dark, eyes and ears fully open, until the Reavers finally left the house. They had taken their sweet time to _play_ with their prey and some of the sounds Mal and Jayne heard left nothing to imagination.

Both thieves let long, heavy sighs of relief out when the entrance door finally shut closed.

"I though they'll never leave," Mal said, his voice not very steady.

Jayne nodded next to him. He swallowed thickly, unable to speak. He shuffled a little more to his left, moving out of Mal's comforting embrace that wasn't a hug. _No_! he told himself firmly_, it definitely wasn't a hug._

"Mal?" Jayne's voice broke the silence a few minutes later.

"Yeah."

"D'you think they'll come back?"

"No. No reason for them to. I bet it won't be long until they leave the planet.

"We'll stay here until to sun comes up," Mal added after a pause. "Then we'll go to our meeting with Serenity."

"They say people who survive the Reavers go crazy," Jayne said hesitantly, after another long moment of silence.

"Only the ones who see the whole thing," Mal replied, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "We'll be fine. We'll go back to Serenity, and forget about it."

He knew that this was probably the biggest lie he'd ever told anyone. He sighed, heavily. He wanted, deep down in his heart, to believe that it was possible to forget. He wanted to believe; he needed to believe.

Maybe he could lock the memories somewhere; throw the key far away and never think about this day, ever again.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, maybe…

**THE END**


End file.
